y 



U 



P 



A-NAUGHTY-BIOGRAPHY 



AND 



OTHER POEMS. 



BY ^ 

MRS. ENOCH TAYLOR. 



CINCINNATI : 

Robert Clarke & Co., Print. 
1878. 










T3^ 



COPYRIGHTED. 

MRS. ENOCH TAYLOR. 

1878. 



TO 



» M.Y Dear Five Hundred." 



CONTENTS. 



A-Naughty-Biographt, . . .7 

My Childhood, 7 

School Life, 20 

Girlhood, . 38 

A " Good-Bye "-ograph}'-, ... 56 

MISCELLANEOUS. 

The Village Belle, 61 

St. Valentine's Day, 65 

The Rainy Day, 67 

Autumn, 68 

October, 69 

Love's Longings, 70 

She Sleeps Beneath the Roses, . . .72 

November, 73 

Gone Blind, 75 

Lines Written by the Seaside, . . 77 

Twenty Summers, 80 

Chiding "Love's Chidings," ... 81 

Found Drowned,- ...... 83 

The Dark Days of Winter, ... 87 

The Song of the Slush^ .... 89 

(v) 



VI CONTENTS. 

Betrayed, 91 

Summer Sightngs, 96 

Our Baby 97 

Cremation, 98 

Response by Cindrella, .... 100 

Answer by Author, 100 

Alone, 102 

A Critique on the Morris Lyceum, . .105 

Night's Phases, 114 

The Foundling, 116 

The New Year 121 

Spring Specialties, 123 

Music, 124 

The Fair Ape of Phila., .... 126 

Decoration Ode, 128 

The Honeymoon, 130 

The Model Man, . . . . . 131 

The Stricken South, ..... 137 

"If ever I Cease to Love, . . . 139 

An Appeal for the Memphis Orphans, . 141 

Waiting for Frost, 143 

October, 145 

George Francis Train, 146 

Washington's Birthday, .... 149 

Adieu to "My Dear Five Hundred," . . 152 



A-NAUGHTY-BIOGRAPHY. 



MY mFAKCY. 



Full forty years have passed and gone, 
Since early on a winter's morn, 
My infant eyes first struck the light. 
At once I showed my baby-spite, 
To find my new abode so plain, 
And half resolved I 'd not remain , 
If I had unexpected come. 
And found this unpretending home, 
I might the negligence excused, 
But now I felt I w^as abused. 

For half a year the fact was known 
That I was on the road to town, 
And all the neighbors, far and near. 
Said, " Doctor'd bring a baby here." 

(7) 



8 A-NAUGIITY-BIOGRAPHY. 

And SO I came at dawn of day^ 
A-crying, too, I've heard tbem say, 
And foand few preparations made — 
I Ve often wondered that I staved. 

Plain petticoats and nntrimmed slips, 

Pewter spoons that scratched my lips, 

A cradle made of painted pine, 

That rocked so rough it made me whine; 

Then three long hours every day 

The colic checked my baby play; 

For months this griping kept me riled, 

And nearly set my mother wild. 

At last our troubles seemed to wane, 
I thought I 'd bid adieu to pain. 
When teething time, with all its pangs. 
Commenced its course with piercing 

twangs ; 
My mother 'd walk the floor by day— 
My pa by night, I've heard them say. 

My father, jolly, good, and kind, 
Would often half make up his mind 



MY INFANCY. 9 

To slap me soniiclly if I cried, 

But his heart would fail hira when he 

tried, 
And as he tossed aud dandled me 
In drowsiness u[ion liis knee, 
They say the more lie nursed and tried. 
The more I always screamed and cried, 
And often would each soul ahirm 
Upon onr little one-horse farm. 

These tibials lasted just a year. 

The coast again seemed getting-clear, 

VYhen all at once the whooping-cough 

Attacked and nearly took me off. 

For nine long weeks I whooped and 

choked. 
While mother nursed and father joked — 
He was always great to jest and pun, 
And turn all troubles into fun — 
He said the crisis now was here, 
And we had nothing worse to fear. 

Alas ! his jesting hopes were vain. 
The whooping-cough did not remain, 



10 A-NAUGHTY-BIOGRAPHY. 

But measles next came breaking out, 
The pimples showing, little doubt, 
Another seige was mine to bear. 
" To all the ills that flesh was heir," 
I felt my infant lot was given. 
And reallj^ wished I was in heaven. 

But quiet comfort did arrive, 
And I began to grow and thrive, 
And ma and pa could take their rest, 
And thought themselves supremely blest. 
Just then I first began to talk ; 
At later date, I karned to walk ; 
But stammered out my early say, 
And stumbled on ray infant way. 
Till one bright morn in early June, 
A baby " brought in a balloon," 
Unjoin ts m.y little Grecian nose, 
My infant ire at once arose. 



Our family now was much too large 
And then it was a fearful charo^e 



_ J 



MY INFANCY. 11 

For mother, who had much to do. 

I 'd try to put the baby through. 

I'd feel its tiny foot, aud sly 

Would pinch or scratch, and make it cry. 

Or rub its head, with Jook so meek. 

And pull its hair or pinch its cheek; 

And mother would at once beo^in 

To look for the offending pin. 

That made the " baby waby " shriek, 

Ne'er dreamino; it was Bessie's freak. 

So, at the early age of three. 

Being bad as bad could be, 

I never w^as a minute mute. 

And people thought me smart and cute; 

The baby was, I 'm glad to say. 

More good and quiet in its way — 

I^ot half the trouble I had been — 

Unless I stuck it with a pin, 

Or rocked it hard, and made it cry, 

You scarce would know the babe was by. 

So time rolled on, and I intent 

On infant mischief, came and went, 



12 A-NAUGHTY-BIOGRAPHY. 

Till little sister learned to talk. 
'T was I that tauglit her first to walk; 
She'd tumble down — I'd pull her through 
And scold her well, and shake her too. 
Then she would totter on and cry, 
While I would chase a butterfly, 
And leave her standing in the lane, 
A-wondering when I'd come again. 

Around the barn we used to roam. 

Or any place away from home; 

We hand-in-hand would tramp and play, 

From early morn till close of day. 

Upsetting all the honest nests 

That enter[>rising hens possessed. 

And loving little ducks to death, 

And out of chickens squeeze the breath, 

Till mother dcomeand frown and fuss, 

And father, too, to save a muss. 

Then homeward bound you 'd see us go, 
The family party in a row, 
But I was nearly always last, 
For when my penitence was past, 



MY INFANCY. 13 

I stopped at times upon tlie way, 

To tinisli m}'- neglected play ; 

And father laughed and mother 'd scold 

About the black sheep of the fold. 

Thus matters stood when I was five, 

The hardest little case alive. 

We spent the hottest summer days 

Working hard at baby-plays. 

Making pies of mud and clay, 

Hauling sand and dirt away ; 

Through grass and puddles we would 

wade. 
Till we a hill or ditch had made. 
With muddy dresses, towsled hair. 
And dirty faces, we 'd repair 
From lane to road, from road to lane. 
Through dirt and dust, through sun and 

rain . 

Our infant lives were passing by. 
When all at once, we scarce knew why, 
A shadow came upon our home. 
And all our household tilled with gloom. 



14 A-NAUGHTY- BIOGRAPHY. 

Our father, ever good and kind, 
"Was taken from our midst, to find 
A better home beyond the skies, 
Which lasting happiness supplies, 
And mother and five little ones 
"Were left to tread the world alone. 

But blessings came from every friend 
That could a kind assistance lend; 
Our lot, though lonely, sad, and scant. 
Was brightened and relieved from want, 
For kindred hearts^ with willing hand, 
Gave shelter to our orphan band. 
Our home, of course, must scattered be 
To suit the sad emergency. 
Our little circle's severed ties 
Dimmed my mother's loving eyes, 
But still her grateful heart was glad 
To know the help and hope we had. 

I thought in this extremity, 
There 'd be a wondrous rush for me. 
That I'd be claimed by all our kin. 
But found myself quite taken in. 



MY INFANCY. 15 

My coantiy aimts took all the rest, 

Though, after all, we fared the best. 

The oldest boy, my brother Joe, 

Who helped my father plough and hoe, 

Was my especial pet and pride, 

New, since hrother Sam had died. 

So, when my city aunt arrived 
To take her pick, at once, I strived 
To be selected as her choice. 
For Joe was pet among the hoys, 
And then we could together go. 
The city sights each other show. 

So, sore enough, our aunty came 
A-riding grandly up the lane. 
And caught me in my dishabille, 
Much against my wayw^ard will ; 
For I had hoped she 'd find me clean. 
That she might then and there have seen 
How well I'd look in city guise. 
Why did she take me by surprise ? 



1(3 A-NAUGHTY-BIOGRAPHY. 

The Diamond State was then our home, 

And aunty came from Quakerdom, 

A-lookirig prim and quite severe, 

But still, I felt I need n't fear, 

For I had much to recommend 

My ladyship, you may depend. 

1 dressed myself with special care, 

And put on quite a company air: 

And, strutting past my maiden aunt, 

I wondered what more she could want ; 

She put h.er specs upon her nose, 

And closelv scanned mv country clothes. 

And asked if I was always good ; 

E'ever naughty, pert, or rude. 

I shunned her kind hut searching eye, 

And half resolved, I 'd not reply. 

As I had nothing good to tell, 

My silence might do just as well. 

I thought she'd find out, soon enough, 

My manners were a little rough, 

And did not w^ant to disenchant 

My new-made friend, and city aunt. 



MY INFANCY. 17 

SO; looking meek and kind of shy, 
I paused, before I made reply ; 
Then told her sometimes I was had, 
But blamed the company that I had ; 
'Twas never any fault of mine, 
If ever I cut up a shine, 
And any mischief that was done 
Was nearly always just for fun. 

So aunty smiled, and hoped I'd be 

A little hidy, and she'd see 

If she could take me up to town. 

And try to tone my manners down. 

I then, at once, desired to know, 

If she couldn't take my brother, Joe. 

She said she rather thought she would, 

If both would promise to be good. 

So off, in haste, I quickly ran, 

To tell of aunty's pleasant plan. 

To dream of city's new delights, 

And think of all the wondrous sights 

That soon would greet our verdant eyes 

And fill our hearts with glad surprise. 



18 A-NAUGHTY-BIOGRAPHY. 

So, then we soon began to pack — 
Our outfit most was on our back — 
Our trunks and traps were small and few, 
Which, fortunately, aunty knew. 

So, on a balmy, summer day, 
"We all prepared to start away 
To leave our home and mother, kind, 
Aud in the world our lot to find ; 
When will life ever seem as bright 
As that receding from our sight? 
So, slowly riding down the lane 
We ne'er could call our own again, 
Poor mother wept in silent woe. 
But thought it best for us to go. 

So, next you'll see the orphan pair 
In the midst of city's stifled air; 
]^o fields, no lanes, no trees to climb, 
A-wondering how we'd kill the time. 
What earthly goods we'd gladly give, 
To get back home again to live ! 
Our aunty, sensible and kind. 
Told us to leave regrets behind. 



MY INFANCY. 19 

And, in lier wise and pleasant way. 
Informed ns, life was not all play. 

Bat cMldbood's troubles seldom last 
Much longer than the cause is past. 
The city soon began to be 
A wonder and a joy to me ; 
My aunty got me pretty clothefs 
And taught me how to turn my toes; 
She 'd dress me up so clean and sweet 
And send me out into the street. 
I 'd miss the " pies " and " puddles" there 
And to the gutters I 'd repair, 
And play and paddle there in glee, 
Till I was summoned in to tea. 

My vixen spirit, as of old, 
I^ew mischief daily would unfold. 
And aunty shuddered, as she saw 
How little I respected law ; 
So, wishing me to live by rule, 
She entered me, at once, in school. 



20 A-NAUGHTY- BIOGRAPHY. 



SCHOOL LIFE. 

One Monday morn in early Fall 
We made the nearest school a call, 
To ascertain if they would take 
A pupil willing to forsake 
All mischief and frivolity, 
And strictly stick to A, B, C. 

The teacher showed a little doubt — 

She saw how I began to ^Dout; 

I did not like the busy looks 

Of slates and pencils, chalk and books- 

I felt I'd much prefer to be 

A stranger to my A, B, C. 

I knew more now, at any rate. 
Than many children did at eight. 
Then why should I, that was so smart, 
Go learning lessons all by heart ? 
I showed my feelings in my face. 
And aunty, vexed at my disgrace. 



SCHOOL LIFE. 21 

At once enrolled my nanghtj name 
Upon the future book of fame. 

I then and tliere began to climb 

The hill of science ; oh ! the time 

It took to teach me how to do ; 

But I fought it out, and struggled through. 

The teacher seldom suited me — 

Indeed, we never could agree ; 

Her notions always seem so queer, 

I wondered why they put her there ; 

And aunty, too, was odd as she, 

Both seemed to be opposed to me. 

I felt if ever I grew big, 

I'd love to give them both a dig. 

At times my patience would give out; 
You couldn't play a bit without 
At once, she'd raise an awful fuss — 
A little laugh would make a muss. 
You couldn't talk in any peace, 
But you 'd be told at once to cease, 



22 A-NAUGHTY-BIOGRAPHY. 

And Jook upon your book or slate, 
Or be kept in till awful late, 
Yoa even couldn't turn around, 
No matter what the sight or sound 
That made you want to look behind — 
You might have just as well been blind, 
Or deaf and dumb, for all she cared — 
She always kept you kind of scared. 

'No matter what you had to saj^. 

She 'd surely look another way, 

And talk and teach, and teach and talk; 

Slate and pencil, book and chalk; 

Were ever at her finger ends — 

I w^onder she had any friends. 

Indeed, she hadn't mauy there. 

Except the good girls round her chair. 

They seemed to think her very nice; 

I wished they'd taken my advice. 

And never mind a word she said ; 

They soon would found, what motive led 

Her to appear so sweet to them. 

And that she wasn't such a gem. 



SCHOOL LIFE. ' 

She had a special spite at me, 
The reason why I couldn't see; 
She'd scold me soundly every day, 
Whether I would work or play; 
And then she'd often keep me in, 
For just a little bit of sin, 
That no one else would scarcely see — 
She was just as mean as mean could be. 

If it had n't been for famil}^ pride, 
I think I 'd left that school or died ; 
But aunty thought it best to stay, 
And she nearlj^ always had her way. 
So there I was for one long year. 
And then I left without a tear. 
I'd learned to read and write and spell, 
Indeed, they said I studied well. 
My failing was behaving bad. 
At least that's what the teacher said ; 
But she was always saying things. 
And telling tales that trouble brings. 
I've left her class, I'm glad to say — 
I'll try a new one now to-day. 



24 A-NAUGHTY-BIOGRAPHY. 

Alas, a-lack-a-daj — ah ! me, 

I fear we too will disagree ; 

There's much that's new I want to know. 

And ask the girls if they will show 

Exactly how the things are done, 

Besides we want a little fun, 

Just to cheer us as we learn — 

The teachers are so stiff and stern, 

I wouldn't be one for a farm — 

They do the children so much harm ; 

Though aunty said to-night at tea 

That's what she's going to make of me. 

I don't know what I've ever done 

To her, indeed to any one. 

That I should suffer such a fate. 

Or learn a trade I love to hate. 

I tell you what, when I get big. 
You'll see me dance a different jig; 
I won't be sober, staid, &,nd stern, 
And try to make the children learn. 
Poor little things, I'll let them be. 
Remembering how it was with me. 



SCHOOL LIFE. 25 

Just worry, lecture, preach, aud scold, 
Enough to make a young one old. 
At school and home I had no rest, 
Was always getting blamed or blest. 
And mostly too without a cause. 
Just for breaking little laws, 
That never should, by rights, been made, 
'Not never would by Bessie's aid. 

So, thus my early life was spent, 
From class to class I yearly went ; 
Eacb teacher seemed to be my foe, 
Aud quite co intent to have me go ; 
But still I had my share of fun, 
In spite of all the scolding done. 
In tricks and pranks I took deligbt, 
And misbehaved with all my might ; 
In tact and lessons I excelled. 
Or I should long since been expelled. 
The merits that I got to-day 
To-m6rrow's marks would wipe away. 

But, at the end of every term, 

Eemorse and resolution firm 
3 



26 A-NAUGHTY-BIOGRAPHY. 

Would fill me with a new desire ; 
But '' all the fat was in the fire " 
The minute mischief crossed my way, 
Which it, alas ! did every day. 

Thus school life, with its hopes and fears — 
At least the first short seven years — 
Was drawing nearly to a close, 
When, all at once, the qiiestion rose — 
What should next he done with me. 
The teachers gladly did agree. 
That I should try my luck and leave — 
The high-school might my name retrieve. 
So I studied hard, both night and day, 
(But leisure took for fun and play), 
Till testing time, with questions hard, 
Brought me my happy hope's reward. 
I did not pass with honors high — 
I guess you know the reason why ; 
But still I passed, and was content. 
And to my laurels proudly went. 
And talked as big and looked as wise 
As those that got the highest prize ; 



SCHOOL LIFE. 27 

And felt it was a happy school, 
Possessing such a precious jewel. 

So, at the age of green fourteen, 
I felt as proud as any queen. 
A new leaf I resolved to turn, 
And study hard and laurels earn ; 
I stood quite high for oue so young, 
And could I only held my tongue 
I might have been almost a star. 
But mischief would my merits mar ; 
For what I gained by work and tact, 
I'd loose by some rebellious act : 
I sacriliced myself to fun — 
My ablest efforts were undone 
By some wild freak or fractured rule, 
That put me down a dot in school. 

I soon began, as heretofore. 
To find the teachers quite a bore, 
In interfering all the time — 
Indeed it seems a chronic crime. 



28 A- NAUGHTY-BIOGRAPHY. 

To be officious and prevent 

The pleasures that were my intent. 

They so delight in being dry 

And dull and stiff. I wonder why ? 

They looked with frowning doubt and 

dread 
On every thing I did and said. 
At times they'd give a sickly smile 
At my peculiar wayward style; 
But in a moment they would be 
A-pointing morals all at me. 

As we were taught full forty things, 
With names as long as corset strings, 
And teachers stern and dignified, 
I future punishment denied. 
I felt w^e bad our troubles here, 
And naught to come was aught to fear. 

Away into the quiet night 
I 'd pore and ponder by the light 
That poets call the '' midnight oil," 
Some crooked problem to uncoil. 



SCHOOL LIFE. 29 

Or draw a map, or parse a verse, 
Or write an essay, which was worse, 
Or worry with celestial globes — 
The very thought my bosom probes 
With recollections full of woe. 
What good is it for us to know 
That Mars lias belts or Saturn rings — 
A thousand other different things? 
That do n't concern this world at all, 
I^or never have since Adam's fall. 

Then scanning Milton through and 

through 
Is what I did despise to do ; 
]^or did I care a single dime 
If all his blank verse had been rhyme. 
Or was awry or wrong in rhythm, 
Or had it been with him — in Heaven. 
That Paradise was lost I knew — 
I never doubted it was true; 
Then why extend the dreary tale, 
To worry pupils — maid and male ? 



30 A-NAUGHTY-BIOGRAPHY. 

Mythology and classic lore 
Is such an everlasting bore. 

The other poets we'd dissect, 

And try their metre to correct — 

And murder many of their lays 

So sadl}^ that it would amaze 

The sainted soul, could it but know 

The scandalous scanning done below ! 

Then algebra, with x and z, 
Would always vex and puzzle me. 
And make me wish that each equation 
Was in the sea, with mensuration. 
I'd sigh and cipher for an hour. 
And long for calculating power 
To get the cube root or the square, 
Or puzzle out the proper share 
That A and B would have to get 
In value either gross or net. 

Then hunting rivers, lakes, and bays, 
And telling all their different ways 



SCHOOL LIFE. 31 

Of rising, flowing, and their end, 
Or with what waters they may blend; 
And ail their lengths and widths and size, 
And what each state or town supplies. 
Of products, imports, exports, ores 
That yearly pass its special shores. 

Ah me! the mountains I would climb 

To find the height, and what a time 

I've had with longitudes and poles, 

Enough to try poor pupils' souls — 

And tropics, latitudes, and zones, 

That gave me geographic groans. 

And then we had to daily tell 

The capitals and towns as well, 

Of territories and of states. 

And give in full the different dates 

Of settlements and civil wars. 

And then we 'd have five minutes pause. 

Before our history began. 

Thus our daily duties ran. 

We never knew an hour's peace ; 
For if we were n't in Rome or Greece, 



6Z A-NAUGHTY-BIOGRAPHY. 

Discussing troubles old and stale, 
Some insurrection to bewail, 
We'd l]ave our massacres at home, 
To fill our hearts with bygone gloom, 
Rebellions, riots, rows, and wars, 
Breaking all the country's laws ; 
But then that was so long ago, 
I hardly think we need to know 
All those troubles that are past, 
It's bad enough to know the last. 

And then I think it 's really vile 

To take us through the British isle, 

And worry o'er her wars and woes, 

Her usurpations, overthrows, 

Her kings and queens both killed and 

crowned. 
We'll never get a single pound, 
For all our interest in their fate, 
'No matter how large their estate. 

I'm tired now of history. 

I've lenrned it all, and can not see 



SCHOOL LIFE. 33 

Why we liave to know so much 

About the English, French, and Dutch, 

And all these men of ancient times, 

Their virtae, valor, and their crimes. 

We have as many of to-day 

As we can w^ell their traits portray. 

Then why go back to ages past 

To get our heroes for a cast ? 

Or worry o'er the wars of yore. 

When we can have them at our door, 

Green and fresh, of recent date, 

In our own laud, indeed our state ? 

What trials teachers do invent. 

They never seem to be content 

Without a torture of some kind 

To agitate the pupil's mind. 

And as for rest or idle hours, 

The very thought their temper sours. 

But study early, study late, 

Things you like and things you hate ; 

Study hard and study long. 

Whether you are weak or strong. 



34 A-NAUGnTY-BIOGRAPHY. 

I tried my best to keep my brain 

Uealtby, sound, and free from pain ; 

I never bad it suffer augbt 

From exercise of weigbty tbougbt. 

All extra care and overwork, 

My great ambition was to shirk ; 

To save the tissues of my mind, 

I 've always been somewhat inclined ! 

I'd study just to struggle through, 

But not enough to make me blue, 

ISTor any recreation miss, 

Which now I think accounts for this 

Entire health which is my boast, 

That over study might liave lost. 

In moderation thus I went 
From grade to grade, and was content. 
In tricks and trifling, mirth and fun, 
Was always passing number one. 
The teacbers vexed at every turn. 
And wanting me to leave or learn. 
Would often help me gladly through 
Their special class into a new, 



SCHOOL LIFE. 35 

Thus hoping theu and there to find 
More occupation for my mind, 
And for themselves relief and rest. 
How little my adieus distressed ; 
For those bereft of such a prize 
Looked coolly on with driest eyes ! 

Once or twice I skipped a grade, 
And cast the good girls in tlie shade, 
Thus rid that teacher most entire 
Of all the mischief I 'd inspire ; 
'T was less in learning than in luck, 
Together with my tact and pluck, 
That helped me prematurely through, 
But that is nothing odd or new. 

I gushed as mnch at my advance 

As though it was no game of chance. 

And never hinted in the least, 

As honors on me so increased, 

'T was troubled teachers pushing me 

To get me through thus rapidly. 



36 A-NAUGHTY- BIOGRAPHY. 

So thus, for two years and a lialf — 

I think of it, and have to laugh — 

I spent the cheq[aered, closing days 

Of school life, with its blame and praise, 

Till all at once the president, 

On my departure firmly bent, 

Informed me I must now begin 

My graduating bays to win. 

He seemed quite glad to have me leave. 

Indeed, there 's no one seemed to grieve 

About my going at this date, 

So I resolved to graduate. 

My parting essay now I write, 
And try sad feelings to excite. 
I use the most pathetic strain. 
As though I'd willingly remain 
To share those sweet scholastic joys 
That leaving school at once destroys. 
I tried to make their bosoms sigh 
For blessings now about to fly. 

But, ah 1 alas, what cool content 
My phrases to their faces lent ! 



SCHOOL LIFE. 37 

I sadly spoke of happy scenes 

Of school life, with its hopes and dreams, 

Of patient teachers, just and kind. 

And wondered if we 'd ever iind 

In life again, such friends as these, 

(And, aside, I thought) as hard to please. 

I really felt it was a time 

When I should ntter thoughts sublime. 

But no one seemed to be disposed 

To feel the slightest discomposed ; 

]^or could I hear a sob or sigh. 

Or see a single moistened eye ! 

Each teacher that Ileft behind 
Seemed reconciled and well resigned 
To hear my valedictory read. 
And every parting word I said 
Grave pleasure, I could plainly see, 
To all the high-school faculty. 

That day in June I'll ne'er forget, 
Their happy faces haunt me yet. 



38 A-NAUGHTY-BIOGRAPHY. 

So eager, anxious, and content, 
To lose a liglil", 't was only lent. 
I felt their hearts were made of stone, 
To be so glad when I was gone. 
Our president, so mild and meek. 
So happy was, he scarce could speak ; 
He said my ivelfare was his aim, 
But now my farewell was the same! 
So 1 hurriedly my parchment drew, 
And bid the happy school adieu. 



GIULHOOD. 

Thus I left those hallowed halls, 
Its blackboards and its pictured walls, 
With maps and charts of every size, 
To torture brain and tease the eyes ; 
And fondly fancied I w^as through; 
I knew twice now what others knew, 
And all I had to do was show 
My talents off, and catch a beau. 



GIRLHOOD. 39 

Wliat consternation tlien was mine, 
When annt's original design 
Was carried out, to have me teacli — 
I'd almost rather beg or preach ; 
But as it was her great desire, 
And as I had no wealthy sire, 
My talents must my banker be — 
So I took a class in A, B, C. 

Again I must divide my time, . 
Between a share of prose and rhyme ; 
I taught all day which was my prose — 
The rhyme in evening, was my beau. 
My daily duties never flagged, 
But evening callers often lagged ; 
I'd wonder too how they could know 
My many charms and tarry so ! 

How often evenings I have sat, 
Impromptu welcomes all so pat ; 
I'd tell the girl to say ''I'm home," 
Alas the callers never come ! 
And I would sit and read a book, 
I'd read before, and never look 



40 A-NAUGHTY-BIOGRAPHY. 

Disconcerted or annoyed, 
Till evening hopes were all destroyed. 
Then, disappointed, I'd retire. 
And try to think of something higher. 
But bitter pangs would rend my heart. 
And dreams and nightmares make me 
start. 

Sometimes a beau would happen in, 
And make me most commit a sin, 
By seeming very much surprised, 
When really I had half surmised 
That he was coming for a week — 
But this was just a girlish freak. 

They really ought to like to come, 
I made them feel so much at home ; 
They seemed so happy while they stayed, 
And left reluctantly, they said ; 
And I would often think it true, 
And show my sorrow — wouldn't you? 

But, ah, alas ! I soon began 
To see the sad deceit of man : 



GIRLHOOD. 41 

I'd sit and watch, and wait in vain. 



'5 



My nose against the window-pane, 
Or listen with an anxious spell, 
To hear the ringing of the beli , 
And bless the beggar that Avonld dare, 
To waken hope and bring despair ! 

Thus matters stood at seventeen — 

An age that's always noted been 

For sunny happiness and joys — 

And so would mine, but for the boys ; 

The very ones that suited me, 

My aunty never seemed to see 

With loving eyes as I desired, 

And those she liked I ne'er admired; 

And when we did on one agree 

He hardly ever fancied me! 

The scrapes and troubles I have had, 

Enough to make a martyr sad; 

These sorrows did n't happen once, 

But worried me for weeks and months. 

At last becoming better known, 

New suitors I began to own, 
4 



42 A-NAUGIITY-BIOGRAPIIV. 

And having more, had bitter choice 
And had occasion to rejoice 
That I was blest with lots of beaus, 
But none seemed anxious to propose. 
They 'd come and go with thoughtless air, 
And I, pretending not to care, 
Would bid them welcome and adieu, 
As sweet and kind as if I knew 
Their very heart-throb was for me — 
Their lives one line of constancy ! 

How many sorry sighs I 've had 
About a wayward truant lad, 
How oft '' unwisely but too well," 
Would love assert its magic spell. 
And hold my heart so tight and strong — 
I'm glad it never lasted long! 

I've thought at times I could n't live, 
Unless Augustus would forgive 
The little pique I showed last night, 
Done really more in love than spite. 
I've gone to bed and tried to weep 
Myself into a troubled sleep; 



GIRLHOOD. 43 

But oft the sorrow I'd forget, 
Before I found my eyes were wet ! 
Or Morpheus would my senses blind, 
And leave love's trials all behind. 

How kind in ]^ature to prepare 
A heart elastic, that can bear 
The miseries and weighty Avoes 
That must attend the age of beaus. 
For, witli so many different kind, 
You couldn't well make up your mind, 
Especially when you didn't know 
Which was destined for your beau. 
To wait and wait, and then to find 
The wrong one is the one inclined 
To breathe his hopes into your ears, 
A nuisance is that seldom cheers. 



Just after such a blow as this 



I thought I saw much future bliss. 
In a student of the " nobby " kind, 
So rich and handsome and refined. 
But, oh, dear me ! my brief deliglit 
Was shattered by his getting tight, 



44 A-NAUGHTY-BIOGRAPHY. 

And a love of fully thirty days 
Was checked by aunt in many ways. 
I thought at last it might he best 
To let my student lover rest. 

My next, an artist proud and poor, 
By chance then living in next door, 
Was always at my beck and call, 
Which aunty did n't like at all — 
She said he was a fop and dandy. 
To me he was so nice and handy, 
And then so pleasant and polite, 
We had engagements every night ; 
Till all at once my artist beau 
Was told by aunt 'twas best to go — 
The love that lasted three long months 
Was crushed and killed by her at once. 

And then I had an interval 
Of several weeks in which to fill 
The place of lovers I had lost — 
But no one knew the pain it cost, 
And nothing but a handsome clerk 
I chanced to meet while at his work. 



GIRLHOOD. 45 

Could make amends for all my woes ; 
But he, alas ! did not propose. 
I think he would, but times were hard, 
Which often happy hopes retard. 
I, knowing this, would not allow 
Him any chance to make a vow, 
For poverty, though not a crime, 
Has always been a dread of mine. 
His handsome eyes and wavy hair, 
Were great temptations I declare ; 
And then his love was firm and true 
But he hadn't cash enough for two. 
So we sighed in silence o'er our fate. 
And wisely thought it best to wait — 
The other callers too seemed slow, 
I've often wondered why 't was so. 

I had no wealth, or charms to praise ; 
But, then, I had such " winning w^ays," 
That ought to take, and may-be will — 
At least I won't give up until 
I hear from some more hopeful source, 
All true love has a crooked course. 



46 A-NAUGIITY-BIOGRAPHY. 

I know the chap I 'd like to catch — 
I think 'twould be a splendid match — 
I wonder what he thinks of me? 
I'll wait a while and we will see; 
He has a tender sort of way 
When he wishes me to sing or play; 
And, when the hour comes to leave, 
He often looks disposed to grieve. 

He 's handsome, too, but awful shy, 
Has such a melting, mellow eye. 
It makes me reconciled to wait 
If just to see, at any rate, 
If time won't ripen his desire. 
And sparks of love for me inspire; 
And while I wait he'll never know 
I ever wished to have a beau. . 

Here twice this week, I do declare. 
And took me out once to the fair; 
I really think he's coming round. 
So I'll keep cool and hold my ground; 
Should he propose, I'll show surprise. 
And stammer, 'No, with drooping eyes: 



GIRLHOOD. 47 

That 's the way they do in books, 
E"or show their haste by eager looks ; 
I hope he won't discover mine, 
]^or take in earnest my decline, 
It really was n't final, nay, 
It only meant a slight delay 
In making np my maiden mind, 
And, in repeating, he will find 
That after the surprise was o'er, 
I 'd " love and honor and adore." 

But blessed luck, and happy fate^ 
That did n't give me long to wait. 
One quiet eve, in early fall, 
He came, and made a lovely call ; 
1^0 other beans that night appeared. 
As both of us at first had feared ; 
And aunty being out of town. 
We did n't dread her maiden frown. 
So being favored thus by fate, 
His smothered love he did relate. 
Our happiness and new-made bliss 
Was sanctioned by the sealing kiss. 



48 A-NAUGHT\-iiIOGRAPHY. 

I quite forgot the siglis and looks 

So recommended in the books. 

And answered, Yes, without deUiy 

Or looking once another way. 

He found I was n't hard to woo, 

My answer came so frank and true ; 

For when you 're suited, what 's the sense 

Of being kept in such suspense, 

Till silly rules of etiquette 

Love's happy longings all upset? 

That evening Cupid's capers thrived, 
Till all at once my aunt arrived ; 
I fear we guilty look and feel, 
Our awkward actions can 't conceal 
How matters stand, but I will try 
By tact detection to defy. 
"We treat each other calmly cool. 
Talk carelessly of church and school, 
Or any subject but the one 
That we have just agreed upon. 
To please my aunty's prudish ear, 
We shunned the theme to us so dear. 



GIRLHOOD. 49 

Till passing liours in liasty flight, 
Suggest to us a sad good- night. 

I^Tow he is gone — how queer I feel ! 

I wish I only dared reveal 

Mj pent up joy unto my aunt ; 

I want to, but I really can 't. 

She always seemed to like this beaa 

As well as any that I know, 

But then she never thought that he 

Would ever care a fig for me ; 

And now I fear that when she finds 

He really loves and has designs, 

She might at once discover fiaws 

To cause her to object or pause, 

And then what misery would be mine 

No heart could know or tongue define. 

The fearful Rubicon is past ; 

I 've told her all — her sanction asked. 

And she consents — most strange to tell, 

I find my suitor suits her well ; 

But wonders what he e'er could see 

In such a wayward girl as me. 



50 A-NATJGHTY-BIOGRAPHY. 

Indeed, I 've often wondered too, 
Though other people never knew, 
But what I thought I was a prize ; 
E'or did my suitor e'er surmise — ■ 
He thought me all that he desired ; 
That trait in him I so admired ! 

For total blindness in a beau 

Is one the best gifts that I know ; 

So, feeling so secure in this, 

We might have lived a life of bliss. 

But for a couple other beau, 

Who thought at once that they 'd propose ; 

They never dreamed of it before, 

'Nov would till they had been four score. 

If I had still kept " fancy free," 

They never would have fancied me. 

'' It seldom rains but what it pours " — 

Too many beaus are often bores. 

I cutely kept my matters mum, 

But found it truly troublesome; 

I told them I was nothing loth 

To love, indeed to marry, both — 



GIRLHOOD. 51 

For still on mischief I was bent, 
And seldom said a word I meant ; 
Most ever have my share of fun 
At sad expense of '' number one." 

I really felt, I blush to tell, 
That I was getting quite a "belle/' 
And could aiFord to put on airs, 
When offers tackled me in pairs! 
And then, too, I had been so fast 
In saying yes, that I would blast 
Those tender hopes I lately made- 
Two lovers cast one in the shade. 

I timed my hours to see them all, 
Preventing, thus, a lover's squall. 
And thought my wits were working fine, 
When, all at once, that aunt of mine 
Commenced, she said, ■" to smell a rat," 
And then we had a lively spat. 
I hardly need to tell the rest — 
For aunty always came out best — 
And I was then obliged to be 
Content with one, instead of three, 



52 A-NAUGHTY-BIOGRAPHY. 

And though I loved the first one well, 
I missed the two, I blush to tell. 
If aunty had n't been so queer, 
I'd had three lovers all the year, 
But now I stuck to number one. 
And left the other two undone. 

And neither of them seemed to die, 
I can not tell the reason why ; 
They nearly always do in books. 
Or turn out bad, which I think looks 
More in keeping with their grief. 
I wonder how they got relief? 
Indeed, I hear they're living 3^et, 
And doing well, and their regret 
Lasted but a little w^hile, 
And terminated in a smile 
That they had missed the happy chance- 
That wasn't my fault, but my aunt's. 

But dear devoted number one 
Forgave the flirting I had done. 
And now, as always, I could see 
How much too good he was for me. 



GIRLHOOD. 53 

At once I thoiiglit, with aunty's aid, 
I 'd try to settle, and be staid, 
Becoming wortliy of so fine 
And noble-hearted beau as mine. 



How easy 'tis for folks to talk, 
But oh ! how hard to walk the chalk. 
The only hope that I could find 
Was keeping my beloved blind^ 
An easy task, I 'm glad to say. 
Till he wanted me to " name the day 
So what's the use of waiting now 
For consummation of our vow, 
When heart and hand and ready will 
Are longing for us to fulfill 
That little form and loving rite 
That permanently hearts unite? 
So I shall name an early day. 
And wed at once, without delay. 
My trosseau wo n't be much to get ; 
Indeed, I'm never one to fret 
About apparel new and fine, 
Or try my neighbors to outshine. 






54 A-NAUGHTY-BIOGRAPHY. 

And then, too, meaning no offense, 

To teachers io the abstract sense, 

Light and slender was ni}^ purse. 

To some, I know, that's quite a curse; 

To me, it being nothing new, 

My wants were rather small and few. 

My preparations soon were done, 

Interspersed with lots of fun ; 

My wedding day was near at hand 

And I was feeling mighty grand. 

And each of my '' live hundred friends " 

Got tickets, and the fete attends ; 

I, robed in white, with fleecy veil, 

"With orange wreath and courtly trail. 

Fancied that, at my levee 

They 'd all admire and envy me ; 

But strange to say, I never heard 

The very first admiring word ! 

But then the guests, the gifts, the ring, 
And all the joys that weddings bring — 
A sweetish scare, I must confess, 
Was mingled with my happiness. 



GIRLHOOD. 55 

A could not see the sense of tears, 
When I had been, for several years, 
Just waiting for this happy day, 
To give my willing self away ; 
Yet still I trembled as I swore, 
" To love and honor and adore." 

My single friends, that disbelieve 
My statements, I will give them leave 
To marry for themselves, and see 
How scared and happy they will be ; 
My married ones already know 
That what I 've said is really so. 

The altar often ends the tale — 
The fair one then, that we assail, 
Is shelved at once, and cast aside 
As soon as she is made a bride ; 
ISTow, twenty years of merry life 
Is passed — I became a wife. 
The " JSTaughty " heroine, you see, 
Has finished her " Biography." 



56 A-NAUGHTY-BIOGRAPHY. 

A " GOOD BYE "-OGRAPHY. 

I'll stiy a few words at the close, 

In case discussions ever rose 

About my traits iu after life — 

I mean when I became a wife. 

A lenient husband's charity, 

Id trust and boundless love for me, 

O'erlooked my early erring ways. 

And filled my e;ir with daily praise. 

Indulgent friends would kindly say 

Such pleasant things most every day, 

And looked so mildly on my mirth, 

It made be overrate my worth. 

And feel reformed, as aunty quotes, 

"That I have sown my wildest oats." 

The stern realities of life 

Will sober down the gayest wife. 

The cares and crosses surely come 

To cloud, at times, the brightest home; 

And mine was not exempt from these, 

For sighs and sorrows and disease 



A " GOOD BYE "-OGRAPHY. 57 

Were all, in turn, my painful lot — 

'T were better though they were forgot. 

I'll finish in the brightest strain, 

E"or have my friends peruse, with pain, 

A clouded page, when my intent 

Was solely for their merriment; 

They '11 see how short these twenty years, 

Beside the first, in print appears. 

The reason 's easy understood : 

The traits depicted here are good, 

And occupy a smaller space 

Than loicked ones I had to trace. 

I wanting quite a good sized book, 

My sinnings and short comings took 

The other side, I do engage, 

Would hardly fill the second page. 

I'll say, for fear my friends deplore, 

These vixen traits are mine no more; 

The heroine, once known as "haughty," 

Is now reformed — ^^'fair, fat, and forty." 




The heroine, once known as " Naughty," 
Is now reformed — " fair, fat, and forty." 



MISCELLANEOUS. 



THE VILLAGE BELLE. 

A verdant youth of modest mien 
Fell in love with, the village queen, 

When strolling through the clover ; 
And in his homely honest way 
Kndely coined what he would say, 

And how he'd always love her. 

He looked in her coquettish eye, 
With hope and fear for her reply ; 

But she so careless seeming, 
Scarce listened to his honeyed words, 
But turned their sweetness into curds, 

And woke him from his dreaming. 

She laughed aloud, with merry glee. 
At the very thought of such as he 

(61) 



62 MISCELLANEOUS. 



Presuming to the honor 
Of loving her, the village belle ; 
Indeed, his feelings he must quell, 

Nor force his love upon her. 



There were a dozen love-sick swains 
Awaiting to blow out their brains 

When she refused affection ; 
Which, of course, she would to all but one, 
And when the others' fates were known, 

They'd die of deep dejection. 

She would not wed a country lad. 
Did she want a husband e'er so bad — 

She sighed for city suitors ; 
Uriah's hopes were sadly crushed, 
His tender words at once were hushed, 

Her wishes were his tutors. 

There's Harry Banks just fresh from 

Yale, 
Who's apt and easy at the tale 



THE VILLAGE BELLE. 63 

That Cupid first invented ; 
He does n't blush or stammer thronorh. 
As though the art were strange and new, 

Act awkward or demented ; 

But takes the favored fair one's hand, 
With melting looks and accents bland, 

He tells his heart's emotion ; 
And though he 's often tight, they say, 
I like his jovial, genial way. 

His lover-like devotion. 

I really think my choice is made 
In favor of the college blade ; 

And, though a reckless rover, 
I vow his wild and winning ways 
Would any maiden's fancy daze 

That craved a dashing lover. 

He'll sow his " wild oats" soon, I know. 
And then he's such a "nobby" beau, 

I feel I'm blest to get him ; 
And Oh, the gay, bright city life. 
That will be mine, when I'm his wife, 

And the girls that will regret him. 



64 MISCELLANEOUS. 

So argued our fair village belle, 
And wed the dashing college swell, 

And left our poor Uriah, 
And all the other sighing swains, 
Whose hearts had turned their youthful 
brains. 

And, set their souls on fire. 

But ah, alas ! one little je^r, 

Has changed her happiness to care. 

And time too soon discloses. 
By sunken cheek and saddened eye. 
Her heavy heart and stifled sigh. 

Her bed is not of roses. 

The dashing beau of other days, 
Has lost his soft pers.uasive ways ; 

Her city life and lover 
Are but a myth to what they seemed. 
As she in girlish fancy dreamed, 

When strolling 'midst the clover. 



ST. VALENTINE DAY. 65 



ST. YALEFTINE DAY. 

This season of old, 
Wev'e often been told, 
Was the time of all others 

For youth to be bold ; 
So the brave and the fair 
May venture to dare, 
Like the birds of the air, 

Their feelings unfold. 

This day of the year. 
To the young very dear. 
Suggests to the heart 

A sweet happiness near; 
And a hope bright and gay. 
May tempt them to say. 
On St. Valentine's Day, 

Words tender and queer. 

Shy lovers, begin, 

Faint hearts never win, 

!N"or is it a sin 
6 



QQ MISCELLANEOUS. 

To love wisely and well; 
And the coy and the fair 
May be yearning to hear, 
At least once a year, 

What a lover might tell. 

So, gents, your attention ; 
I beg you will mention 
To the fair of your choice 

Your honest intention ; 
And should she reject you, 
Do n't let it deject you, 
Eut think it an ounce 

Of healthy prevention. 

They say Cupid's arrows 
Pierce even the sparrows ; 
The thought surely harrows 

The youth of to-day ; 
For who with right reason. 
In love-making season. 
Would like by the birds 

To be " given away ? " 



THE RAINY DAY. 67 



THE EAINY DAY. 

The gentle rain that softly falls, 

Befriending earth and ocean, 
Awakens many a happy thought, 

As well as sad emotion. 
It tells of changing E'ature's tears. 

That fall to freshen beanty ; 
It teaches us that gloomy hours 

May darken pleasant duty. 

Tearful times must come to all. 

And joy be mixed with sadness ; 
Our years are not one summer dream, 

Our hearts one glow of gladness; 
But like the gentle rain to earth, 

Bereaving while it brightens, 
A few dark days, in every life. 

Each coming blessing heightens. 

We greet the golden sunshine more, 
That follows after showers, 



68 MISCELLANEOUS. 

Just as we welcome happiness 
Succeeding dreary hours ; 

Were years continued summer time, 
Or filled with constant glory, 

Were E"ature always in her prime, 
And life one cloudless story, 

We'd poorly prize the blessings sent- 

1:^0 contrast to create content. 



AUTUMN". 

I love to live in autumn days, 
To linger in their bahny haze, 
To ponder in a dreamy maze. 

Upon their many glories. 
I love to watch the setting sun, 
To see the stars come one by one, 
And fade away when they are done. 

Telling their nightly story. 

I love sweet autumn's golden hours. 
Though chilling winds and fading flowers, 
Tell of E'ature's waning powers, 



OCTOBER. 69 

Still I love the season ; 
Tiiey speak of ripeness, ere decay 
Has swept their beauties all away; 
The change of leaf froni. green to gray 

Must charm the dullest reason. 

The garnered graiu, the golden sheaf, 
The varied bough, the yellow leaf, 
Teem with beauties, all too brief, 

That vanish as we view them. 
I'd have the autumn's gentle sway 
Control the year from June to May ; 
I'd have its glories ne'er decay, 

I^or winter snows to strew them. 



OCTOBER. 

This golden mouth, with varied leaves, 

So full of Avaniug glories, 
Adorns the groves that it bereaves, 

And tills the woods with stories 



70 MISCELLANEOUS. 

Of fleeting verdure, fading flowers- 
Dying E^ature's empty bowers. 

It stills the birds and chills the air, 
It scatters roses here and there, 
Making bush and branches bare 

Of foliage and beauty. 
The verdant leaves of summer lie 
Seared, beneath an autumn sky, 
Left to wither and to die, 

As Nature's latest duty. 



LOVE'S Lo^amas. 

I dream of thee in dewy hours, 

I think of thee by day, 
I muse upon thy winning powers, 

When thou art far away. 
I love to live in love with thee. 

To watch thy pensive eye. 



love's longings. 71 

To linger in thy memory, 

To sootlie thy bosom's sigh. 
I fain would have thy love-lit face 

Forever turned on me, 
Oh, may we not in future trace 

One common destiny? 
And then together we could tread 

Life's flowery fields as one, 
Dependent on each other's love, 

As earth is on the sun. 

Each joy in life would brighter be, 

If thou wert always near. 
And every sorrow lighter be. 

If thou wert there to cheer. 
So let me linger by thy side. 

In love with thee alone. 
Should fortune frown or ills betide, 

Thy presence would atone. 

And blest and happy in thy smiles, 

Despite of cross or care, 
I 'd pray for rare longevity. 

Thy holy love to share. 



72 MISCELLANEOUS. 

And then when life should cease to be, 
And earthly love grow cold, 

Mj songs throughout eternity 
Should angel love unfold. 



SHE SLEEPS BENEATH THE 
ROSES. 

We bore our Bessie's angel form, 

Which now in death reposes, 
To the silent grave, in summer days. 
When earth was bathed in sunny rays, 
When June birds sang their summer lays, 
We laid her 'neath the roses. 

We watched the form we loved so well, 
As the grave so greedy closes. 

We heard the sod as it sadly fell, 

A heartless tale it seemed to tell. 

Its echo like a funeral knell, 
Was heard among the roses. 



NOVEMBER. 73 

We turned away and left her there, 

With flowers around, above her, 
We breathed the soothing summer ah'. 
Which bade us hope and hush despair, 
We gave our child to angel care, 
And trust to God to love her. 

We sought our sorrow-stricken home. 
Which naught but grief discloses, 

Each echo there repeats a groan. 

Each merry laugh is now a moan. 

For angel Bessie sleeps alone, 
Beneath the summer roses. 



KOYEMBER. 

The Autumn boughs are growing bare. 
The leaves are changed and falling, 

And dying nature everywhere 
Obeys grim Winter's calling; 



74 MISCELLANEOUS. 

The fields bereft of grass and grain, 
The waving woods deserted, 

The fountains gush, the songsters strain, 
To wailing winds converted. 

All nature frowns in drear dismay. 

As Autumn beauties pass away. 

We see them all decay and die. 

Each bud and tree and flower, 
The trailing vines neglected lie. 

Around the summer bower ; 
O'er slopes so lately pleasure's haunts. 

The withered leaves are blowing, 
The broken branch, the barren bough 

The sterile grounds are strewing ; 
Earth's beauties vanish one by one, 
As nature's yearly race is run. 

November's winds are bleak and cold, 
Its skies are gray and dreary. 

Its landscapes no delights unfold, 
To rest the eye that 's weary. 



GONE BLIND. 75 

There's naught around, beneath, above, 

But tells of folding glorj, 
Each lonely lawn, and leafless grove 

Confirms the saddened story ; 
Earth sobs her grief, and Boreas sighs. 
As changing I^ature droops and dies. 



GONE BLIKD. 

An early friend, of brilliant mind, 
In manhood's summer stricken blind ; 
Earth's beauties faded day by day, 
Till views and visions passed away, 
And left a blank in the midst of bloom- 
A spirit crushed in a life of gloom. 
A heart bowed down in manly grief, 
'No hope of light to bring relief. 

His sun is set at early noon, 
His rayless night 's without a moon ; 
His life's bright zenith 's clouded o'er, 
To him the stars will rise no more. 



76 MISCELLANEOUS. 

1^0 sunny scenes illume liis way, 
The flowers bloom and then decay, 
The planets daily set and rise 
Before those yearning, sightless eyes. 

To him, all life is one long night. 
The season's change brings no delight; 
His vacant orbs scan nothing new, 
Bat stare in vain for one dim view 
Of sights and scenes of other days, 
"When life was full of sunny rays ; 
He'd freely give all earthly gold 
For one glad glimpse of scenes of old. 

Familiar faces, favorite friends. 
That by Jiis side in love attends ; 
"What priceless gift 't would be for him 
To see those forms, though faint and 

dim; 
To trace the features, watch the eye 
Of loved ones, flitting fondly by. 
And gaze upon her gentle face, 
Whose charms e'en darkness can 't ef- 
face. 



LINES WRITTEN BY THE SEASIDE. 77 

Oh, could this dreary winter dream 
Be gladdened by one golden gleam, 
One sunbeam's blessed brightening ray 
Could turn this darkness into day. 
But this eclipse, this sunless gloom. 
That now makes life a living tomb, 
May know no dawn till earthly night 
Gives place to heaven's eternal light. 



LmES WEITTEIN" BY THE 
SEASIDE. 

As I sit by the seaside. 

And watch the blue waves 
On the boundless bright bosom of ocean, 

The roar of the billows, 

The sea as it raves,' 
Awaken ecstatic emotion. 

I long: for tlie leisure 
To stay by its side, 



78 MISCELLANEOUS. 

To linger in love by its beauties, 

To listen entranced, 

To gaze with delight, 
And regret that I have other du^es. 

I regret that dull life, 

"With its prosy routine, 
Must claim my attention to-morrow ; 

That I must awake 

From mty bright ocean dream, 
And leave the cool seaside in sorrow. 

This world of delight, 

This home by the sea. 
This hour so full of enjoyment. 

How I wish that the future 

Had nothing for me 
But just such happy employment. 

I 'd live by the sea, 

All these long summer days 
I 'd watch the bright breakers at even, 

I 'd wander at twilight, 

And silently gaze 
On the beauties of ocean and heaven. 



LINES WRITTEN BY THE SEASIDE. 79 

Till Luna lends light 

To the billowy scene, 
That sparkles like gems in its glory ; 

As tipping the waves 

With her silvery sheen. 
She nightly renews her bright story. 

I 'd gaze at the stars 

In the heavens on high, 
And list to the mnsic of ocean, 

Till the moan of the sea 

And the zephyr's soft sigh 
Would turn my delight to devotion. 

I could muse on those orbs, 

Thus mirrored by waves. 
In revery live by the hour 

By the side of the sea, 

As it sighs or it raves. 
And dream of Omnipotent power. 



80 MISCELLANEOUS. 



TWENTY SUMMERS. 

On our Daughter's Birthday. 

Thy first bright twenty years have past, 
And left an impress that will last 

A lifetime on thy brow ; 
May the moulding of thy gentle face, 
Which all the kindly feelings grace, 

Be always calm as now ! 

All nature's noble gifts are thine, 
So carry out her sweet design 

In every new career ; 
Thus radiate delight around, 
Make sanny happiness abound, 

And bless each future sphere. 

Let every grace that now is thine 
Be ripened by the hand of time, 

Enriched by coming j^ears ; 
Ennobled and refined by art, 
That only culture can impart, 

And moral worth endears. 



CHIDING ^^ love's CHIBINGS." 81 

]^o idle ease oor empty hours 
Should dwarf thy mind's improving 
powers, 

But live with earnest aim ; 
And strive each happy trait to woo, 
Do nobly what thou hast to do, 

And grace thy future name. 



CIIIDma '' LOVE'S CHIDmGS/' 

The cruel word in anger spoken, 
Has oft the loving heart near broken, 
And left its sting for hours behind, 
Upon some dear one's troubled mind. 
How many a day is clouded o'er, 
And many a heart made sad and sore. 
By thoughtless words that give us pain, 
That ne'er can be recalled again ! 

Our dearest friends should surely be 
The ones the last our faults to see, 
And then, all leniency and love, 
Should by its blind devotion prove 



82 MISCELLANEOUS. 

How far above all other ties 
In life, our home-hearts we should prize ; 
Oiir wedded love's responsive thrill 
Should be the same through good and ill. 

Away with love that's only lent 
Till all the summer hours are spent, 
That fades and cools as cares increase, 
That comes and goes with each caprice. 
Ah! no, the love for which we yearn 
Will through all age and error burn. 
Will live and light our winter days. 
And be the same in blame and praise. 

True love is trusting, patient, pure. 
Is constant, kind, and will endure ; 
It never chides, but soothes the breast 
That sighs for sympathy and rest. 
One broken chord may wreck a life, 
One angry word ma^^ start a strife. 
And chill the love that early won, 
That should be life's domestic sun. 



FOUND DROWNED. 83 



EOUKD DKOWNED. 

There drifted a form on the banks of a 

stream. 
As pretty and fair as poet's young 

dream ; 
"With her worn, draggled dress and her 

small tattered shoes, 
Her golden hair floating dishevelled and 

loose ; 
Her pale, haggard face, so sad in repose, 
Told tales of a life beclouded by woes ; 
Her small dimpled hands lay listless and 

cold 
Across her fair breast, where sorrows 

untold 
Had made her young heart in misery old. 

Her poor glassy eyes, now death dimmed 

and blue, 
Looked vacantly out, as it' bidding adieu 



84 MISCELLANEOUS. 

To a world that had shunned her, to 
friends that denied 

Love, kindness, and pity in self-right- 
eous pride : 

Who can she be, this fair one unknown, 

Has she a history, has she a home? 

Was life ever bright to her, friends ever 
kind ? 

Why did she seek thus oblivion to find — 

This blankness and Lethe for body and 
mind ? 

Did nobody love her, did nobody wait 

In crazy anxiety as to her fate ? 

Had she no father, no husband, no 

brother. 
Had she no dear, tender sister or 

mother. 
To watch for her coming and wonder and 

wait, 
Impatient and anxious, because she 's so 

late ? 



FOUND DROWNED. 85 

And v/hen she comes not, is there no one 

to miss her, 
Ko one to seek her, to love her or kiss 

her ? 
Will nobody come to claim the fair clay, 
Will friends all forsake her in doubt 

and dismay ? 
Mnst this disappointed, mistaken young 

life, 

Gone out in its misery, not end the strife ? 

Will forgiveness not come, even if error 
were there, 

To the clay of this victim of hopeless de- 
spair ? 

Did life in its springtime to her seem so 
sad. 

That living was sorrow ? Ah, mayhap 
she had 

Crushed hopes and afiections too heavy 
to bear, 

So she seeks dissolution in crazy de- 
spair. 



86 MISCELLANEOUS. 

To live would need courage^ to die would 

end all, 
So she leaps in the dark, e'er her 

Maker doth call. 
" Found Drowned " is the verdict too sad 

to believe, 
l!^o kindred to sorrow, no loved ones to 

grieve. 
Doomed to desertion, both living and 

dead, 
'No mourners to follow to the place she is 

laid; 
By strangers she 's buried, unwept and 

unknown. 
Thus ends a brief life, misery marked for 

its own. 



THE DARK DAYS OF WINTER. 87 



THE DAEK DAYS OF WmXER. 

As gloom gathers round, the dark days 
of winter, 
And the season of shadows, beclouds 
the bright skies, 
The heart becomes tinged with pensive 
emotions 
As E'ature, in mourning, thus withers 
and dies. 

"We recall the sweet hours of retrospect 
pleasure. 
Of green haunts of happiness — lately 
our own — 
Of gay, joyous scenes, and sweet summer 
fancies. 
Engendered by beauty and brightness 
alone. 

Adieu to the charms of summer and 
autumn, 
That each, in their turn, fill life with 
delight ; 



88 MISCELLANEOUS. 

We love N'ature, budding or blooming 
or ripened, 
We cherish its beauties — regretting 
their flight. 

But the dark days of winter must come 
to the seasons, 
That change, in their rounds, from the 
bright to the drear ; 
And, though we deplore their cold dull- 
ness and darkness, 
We can 't hope for springtime all thro' 
the year. 

These dull, dreary days, these clouds, 
gray and heavy. 
That hang, like a pall, over I^ature's 
fair face. 
But serve to enhance each gleam of gold 
sunshine. 
When new- waking I^ature its beauties 
retrace. 



THE SONG OF THE SLUSH. 89 



THE SONG OF THE SLUSH. 

The slusli, the slush, the terrible slush, 
That streams from eacli pore of the earth 

with a gush ; 
Impeding the travel, making walking a 

woe; 
All on account of the "Beautiful Snow," 

From each roof and tree, great drippings 

we see. 
Making gutters and crossings quite up to 

the knee ; 
The sidewalks so icy, the pavements a 

show ; 
All on account of the " Beautiful Snow." 

From the time that we leave the sill of 

the door, 
" Eaves-droppings," in torrents, all over 

us pour — 

8 



90 MISCELLANEOUS. 

Such splashing above, such slushing be- 
low ; 
All on account of the "Beautiful Snow." 

Then we slip and we slide, as we try to 
proceed ; 

Tottering and trembling, like a wind- 
waving reed. 

This icy mud-mixture makes traveling so 
slow ; 

All on account of the " Beautiful Snow." 

The soot and the slush, the mud and the 

smoke. 
Make that pure, pretty poem a dark, 

dirty joke; 
With a nature poetic, we certainly know 
ISo "Queen City" bard wrote "Beautiful 

Snow." 



BETRAYED. 91 



BETEAYED. 

I knew a rustic beauty once, 

A happy-hearted maiden, 
Whose life seemed bright as summer days, 
And as she watched the autumn rays, 
With love of nature's works and ways. 

Her heart seemed always laden. 

She loved her quiet, rural home, 

In all its sweet sedateness, 
She 'd stroll along with happy air. 
Regardless of a coming care, 
Supposing joy was everywhere. 

And dream of future greatness. 

Her bright, blue eyes would seek the 
skies. 

In wondering admiration, 
She 'd roam at will, from wood to hill. 
Or sit and dream by rock and rill, 
As if she yearned her soul to fill 

With love of God's creation. 



92 MISCELLANEOUS. 

Could her young life ne'er known of 
strife, 

ISTor seen bat rural beauties, 
That happiness might still be hers, 
Where anguish now her bosom stirs, 
That always follows each that errs 

Against life's hallowed duties. 

A suitor came, in city guise, 

A gay and dashing lover. 
He wooes this simple-hearted girl, 
He tells her of the city's whirl, 
Where fascinations all unfurl. 

And pleasure's cup runs over. 

She soon Avould scorn these rustic scenes, 

So tame to riper vision. 
Her beauty buried out of sight, 
Her love spent on some country wight, 
Her life without one gay delight. 

Would mark her future mission. 

She loving heard his dangerous words, 
And, with fond trust believing, 



BETRAYED. 93 

She listened by her favorite stream 
To tales of* love that made life seem 
Enchanting as a fairy dream, 
Nor thought of his deceiving. 

She quit her happy, rural home, 

To share his boasted pleasures. 

Alas, her love was soon despised, 

He left her e'er she had surmised 

That he, bereft of all she prized. 

Was least among her treasures. 

Crushed beneath that heavy blow. 

She sank in deep dejection ; 
Her happiness is changed to tears, 
Her purity to guilty fears, 
Estranged each friendly face appears, 

And dead each fond affection. 

His broken vows near drove her mad, 

His treacherous desertion 
Made desperate every hope she had, 
To her the rest of life was sad, 
Not even innocence to glad 

Or shield her from aspersion. 



94 MISCELLANEOUS. 

She, broken-hearted, crusli'dand wrong'd, 

Who erred through blind devotion, 
Could ne'er regain her home and friends, 
Nor could a lifetime make amends, 
]^or dull the pang her bosom rends ; 
She 'd die and end emotion. 

She seeks the brook that once she loved. 

By stealth in twilight hoar. 
And, musing on that peaceful scene. 
She sadly thought " what might have 

been," 
Had traitors love, with gilded meio, 

E^ot charmed with subtle power. 

Then came the flood of bitter tears. 

Heart-chiding and misgiving, 
"When stilling all her future fears. 
As she a fancied footstep hears. 
She takes a leap and disappears, 
And ends the pain of living. 

Despairing death her early doom, 
Young, wretched, and mistaken, 



■ BETRAYED. 95 

Her innocence and beauty gone, 
Her life cut off in early morn, 
Her broken heart in anguish torn, 
Deserted and forsaken. 

And where is he whose treacherous wiles 

Have driven her to madness ? 
Whose hollow heart and sinful soul 
Betrayed, while under love's control. 
The trusting heart we here enroll 
Upon life's book of sadness ? 

Her icy form drifts down the stream. 

While he pursues his pleasures; 
The world looks on his murd'rous deeds 
With leniency, and scarcely heeds 
The ruin w^rought, or wrong that pleads 
For justice in God's measures. 



96 MISCELLANEOUS. 



SUMMER SIGHIISrGS. 

We want to go to " Iceland," 

Or to the '' polar seas;" 
We want to hug an " iceberg," 

Or raise a " family breeze ; " 
We want to see a white frost 

All o'er our grassy earth ; 
We w^ant to have a snow^ storm 

Give winter early birth ; 
A " cold" would be a godsend. 

Indeed, we 'd like a " chill ; " 
A " coolness " with our dearest friend 

Would help to " till the bill." 
A " cool reception " we 'd enjoy. 

Also, a "freezing" bow. 
And " frosted feet " we 'd think a treat 

If we could have them now. 
We 'd like our home an " ice bouse," 

Our bed a bank of snow, 
We 'd have " refrigerator " cars 

To take us to and fro ; 



OUR BABY. 97 

We 'cl love to live in Lapland, 

For reasons of our own, 
Or spend our summer holidays 

Within the " frigid zone." 
Why they call this world a '' cold world " 

We surely cannot tell, 
We think this summer proves it 

Almost as hot as " Hades." 



OUR BABY. 

Our precious babe, our household pet, 
" The well spring of our pleasure," 

Each hour welcomes some new art 
Endearing this our treasure ; 

Its many little winning ways, 

Its cunning tricks and baby plays 
Bewitches beyond measure. 

We watch it bud from day to day, 

Developing new beauties ; 
A wonder in precociousness, 

Performing baby duties ; 



98 MISCELLANEOUS. 

It laughs, and coos, and '' patty cakes 
And plays with rings and rattles, 

And reaches out its dimpled hands 
For all the goods and chattels 

That tend to brighten babyhood. 
And for them begs and battles ; 

Then langhs and leaps in gay delight 
And kicks and crows its pleasure, 

Rejuvenates our quiet home 
And fills our hours of leisure. 

Till " tired nature " claims the sway 

And gives the household holiday. 



7 



CREMATION 

Cremation seems to some to be 
A matter of economy ; 
To save a heavy funeral tee. 
Thus cheat the undertaker. 



CREMATION. 99 

It Las always been our great desire 
To wholly sliun jpost mortem fire ; 
We'd hate to roast a son or sire, 
Or be a body baker. 

E'ow those that like this novel plan 
To inflamate the corpse of man, 
May use the funeral frying pan, 

And gather up the ashes. 
But we truly trust that our friends, 
When our demise their bosom rends, 
Will in their sorrow make amends, 

Omitting cmder hashes. 

l!^o matter if the freight is low, 
Or if we were a deadhead through. 
Who 'd want to be a broil or stew — 

Thus to the turkey leveled ? 
Oh, no ! we hope that our fate 
Will be postponed till it's so late 
The fashion will be out of date. 

And then we can 't be deviled. 



100 MISCELLANEOUS. 



RESPONSE, BY CINDER-ELLA. 

!N'ot for you cremating pyre, 
Because '' it 's been your great desire 
To wholly shun 'post mortem fire," 

And thus to save your " bakin'." 
Because you have this hope behind you, 
Do n't think your master will not find you, 
Tho' deep in earth they have consigned 
you, 

Beneath a lying stone. 
"When earthly things do fade from view. 
And all tlie chances you 've run through, 
Then will the devil have his due. 

And he will claim his own. 

ANSWER BY MRS. TAYLOR. 

There is, we find, a class of folks 
Opposed to our cremation jokes: 
'T were vain for us to try to coax 
Them out of cinder-ation ; 



CREMATION. 101 

For furnace heat they sigh at heart, 
They 'd ape the goose or gander part, 
Or baked like pudding, pie, or tart. 
Be dessert of creation. 

To such we would sincerely say. 
Their fiery instincts should obey, 
We would not have our wishes weigh 

Against incendiaries ; 
But let them burn or bake by rule. 
As suits the taste of sage or fool. 
Our greatest aim is to keep cool, 

'^ov cross the Stygian ferries. 

Cremators seem to pine for fire, 

]N"or would we quench their warm desire. 

Though our hope is something higher. 

We here would mildly mention : 
If they their loved ones would ignite, 
And think a burning bier is right. 
Why let them take a fiery flight 

"Where they pave with good inten- 
tion." 



102 MISCELLANEOUS. 



ALOIsTE. 

Hers is a rayless night; 
1^0 star or gleam of liglit 
Beams o'er the widow's blight, 

As she sits alone. 
Oh ! could her tears that flow, 
"Wash out her woman's woe. 
Drown every sorrow's throe 

And misery's moan. 

She has a sunless sky, 
Sadly to sit and sigh, 
Her hope is but to die 

And end the pain; 
She thinks of other days 
"When life had sunny rays, 
Such thoughts as nearly craze 

Her busy brain. 

Crushed hopes crowding come. 
Dead joys, in a darkened home. 



ALONE. 103 

Lost love so lately known, 

Make life so drear ; 
What is there left her now ? 
What peace has earth to show ? 
What bliss can life bestow 

That once was dear ? 

She sits in twilight duTi, 
Vainly awaiting him, 
Watching the shadows grim 

Go faintly past ; 
Till night, lone and still, 
Veils earth, dark and chill. 
How kind could sorrow kill 

By one cold blast. 

But there she sits alone, 
Lists for that tender tone. 
Lately it was her own, 

Fondly to hear; 
I^ow all is still and cold, 
'No ray can hope unfold. 
Her young heart has grown old 

In one short year. 



104 MISCELLANEOUS. 

Life's early winter 's come, 
Clouded her liappy home, 
Made grief and woe her own, 

Heartsore and sad ; 
Who could existence crave? 
Her love is in the grave ; 
Would she die and save 

Her going mad ! 

Heart bowed in deep despair, 
Oh, God ! hear thou her prayer; 
Let time her loss repair. 

And spring once more 
Smile o'er her clouded years ; 
Give her the hope that cheers, 
Wipe out her widow's tears 

And peace restore. 



A CRITIQUE ON THE MORRIS LYCEUM. 105 



A CRITIQUE OF THE MOEEIS 
LYCEUM. 

The first od the list is President Bojce, 

" The head of the heap," and the Ly- 
ceum's choice, 

Whose seeming set habits in bachelor 
ways 

Is all that robs him of womanly praise. 

The next that comes under my critical 

pen, 
At the president's table sits fair Mrs. 

Glenn, 
A lady so rich in pleasing pen powers 
That we oftentimes wish her minutes 

were hours. 

And then Mr. Cole, so sober and sage, 
Whose late recitations have been quite 
the rage ; 



106 MISCELLANEOUS. 

He, too/s in tlie market — I beg you won't 

tell, 
For the girls will pursue liim and find it 

a " sell." 

E'ow dear Mrs. Goodrich, our matron of 
mind, 

Who can be both Biddy and Lady com- 
bined ; 

With much versatility, logic and fun. 

We welcome her always as " A JSTumber 
one." 

In strides Mr. Hollister, tall and profound. 
Who refuses to see when a laugh may be 

found ; 
Who relishes Bennett's rejecting Miss 

May, 
As though the stale tidings were fresh of 

to-day. 

Then chimes the "sweet singer," Miss 

Huston — Ah, me ! 
What would the Lyceum do without thee ? 



A CEITIQUE ON THE MORKIS LYCEUM. lOT 

With, her silverest tones Jiiid dreamiest 

look, 
To recite the sad ^' Bells " and sing the 

sweet " Brook " 

In trijps Enoch Taylor with humor and 

fun, 
As " Dundreary," or " Paddy," or 

" George Washington ; " 
He has a strong weakness for " Widow 

Bedotte," 
Indeed, for all widows a weakness he's got. 

See the bright star, May Donally, rise. 
Whose musical voice and luminous eyes 
Make her so brilliant in reading and song. 
We wish we could teach her refusing was 
wrong. 

Boyd, the " tall barrister," drawls out his 

say 
In his sensible, lazy, lack-a-daisical way ; 



108 MISCELLANEOUS. 

He declaims or debates, according to 

choice ; 
He 's a bachelor, having no partner but 

Boyce. 

Then Mrs. Thorne, whose husband is Joe, 
Smilingly reads, in tones soft and low, 
Good articles, essays, poems or prose — 
She's happy at any you choose to propose. 

!N"ow comes Col. Finch, so jolly and jocose, 
Who lately, I think, got slightly morose 
Because " Brother "Watkins " fell flat on 

our ears. 
And failed to bring any spectators to tears. 

Mr. Babbitt's a name suggestive of soap. 
Clean records and linen, and giving a 

scope 
For a lawyer of merit, who 's modest and 

shy, 
To make him a mixture to " concentrate 
lye." 



A CRITIQUE ON THE MORRIS LYCEUM. 109 

Then Mrs. Jones and Coffin come in, 
Gentle, sweet readers as ever have been ; 
Selected to serve in meter or prose, 
They recite ''ready made" or sweetly 
compose, 

Mr. Baker, w-ho next breaks out in debate, 
Is a favorite here, and I think I may state 
Our friends will find it instructive delight 
Attending his lecture here, next Friday 
night. 

AYelcome Miss Fish and Miss Boyd, in 

their turn, 
Who know so much now they have little 

to learn ; 
They give us at times an essay or two. 
Well written and read, and then they are 

through. 

IsTow pretty dame Stone's is a hard name 

to puff, 
And to stick to the truth would be very 

rough ; 



110 MISCELLANEOUS. 

For the geuts, as she reads, the author 

defies, 
And lose their ideas in the light of her 

eyes. 

Col. Taylor, the " chronic debater," ap- 
pears, 

Who argues regardless of scruples or fear ; 

Our " smiling attorney " do n't fret about 
sin, 

But espouses the cause that's surest to 
win. 

The sensible, cynical Simpson Glenn, 

Scares us and scathes us with critical pen ; 

He's not over pious, I've heard people 
say, 

But would be a Christian, were the Temp- 
ter away. 

McLaughlin, why will you persistently 

part 
Your hair in the middle, thus touching 

the heart 



A CRITIQUE ON THE MORRIS LYCEUM. Ill 

Of the girls of our church ? I think it is 

wrong ; 
For forgiveness you'll have to sing us a 

song. 

E'ow sweet Mrs. "Worth, our directress 
and guide, 

Her name and her nature so closely allied ; 

Her gay, happy face and her laughing, 
bright eyes, 

Are a light in the Lyceum the male mem- 
bers prize. 

Mr. Goodrich writes quaintl}^ a style of 

his own, 
But favors us seldom, if we let him alone ; 
His smiling refusals do n't quite fill the 

bill. 
Though he fancies the sugar will cover 

the pill. 

See, brilliant and bright as an evening star, 
Our "brunette contralto," Lucebia Le- 
Barr ; 



112 MISCELLANEOUS. 

"Witli Miss Mary Taylor, whose talent is 

fine, 
Executes harmonies almost divine. 

In stalks Frederick Peer, the " tragedian 

knight/' 
So happy in " Hamlet," so good to recite 
The " Wreck" or the " Richards" either 

one, two or three — 
A Booth in the fnture I think I foresee. 

]^ow gentle Miss Conkling, of rustic re- 
nown. 

Has kindly consented to honor the town 

And favor our meetings, in spite of the 
trains. 

And cheer us and charm us with musical 
strains. 

The next new delight we wish to impart 
Will be in the person of Johnny B. Hart ; 
So naodest in manner, so earnest in mind. 
Has piety, talent, good nature combined. 



A CHITIQUE ON THE MORRIS LYCEUM, llo 

By the way, he will lecture on the 10th of 
this May 

ConcerDiiig Victoria's blest reign of to- 
day; 

With so fine a speaker and pleasant a 
theme, 

The church will be filled with " la creme 

de la creme." 

In j^ops pungent Pape, with his poem 
from Poe, 

Distorted, dissected till you hardly would 
know 

How it could of all grace be so thor- 
oughly shaven. 

Could the poet arise I know he'd be 
"Raven/' 

Last though not least, is Mrs. E. Taylor, 
Of fair ones of forty, I think I've seen 

frailer I 
But she's blest with one beauty, she 

never gets blue — 

!N"ot even in biddinsf the Lyceum adieu 
10 ^ '^ 



114 MISCELLANEOUS. 



OTGHT'S PHASES. 

In sable mantle wrapt at rest, 

Behold the glorious, gorgeous night, 

Its firmament in splendor dressed 
Its canopy the starry height, 

Whose sparks illume and light the land, 

And make e'en darkness bright and grand. 

Then comes the moon with silver glow, 
Whose mellow rays both charm and 
cheer, 

Benignly blessing all below^, 

Before w^hose brightness disappear 

Clouds and shadows, mists and shades. 

Till silver sheen all earth pervades. 

And then the mild, soft summer night, 
With genial zephyrs, gentle dews, 

Whose balmy breath wafts rich delight 
O'er summer slopes where nightly 
strews 



night's phases. 115 

The ripened roses' perfumed leaves, 
E'er robs the flower that it bereaves. 

Then comes the frosty winter night, 
With crystal boughs and icy brooks, 

"With snow-capped hills, afar and white, 
A-lending light to earth's dark nooks, 

Diffusing rays and borrowed gleams 

O'er darkened woods and shaded streams. 

And then behold the dreary night, 
Without the spell of moon or stars. 

Whose somber silence seems to blight 
Earth's finest phase, and chills and mars 

The lonesome landscape, crow^ds the mind 

With weird, wild fancies undefined ; 

And gives each form a phantom shape. 
Creating visions gaunt and grim, 

And, as a pall that mourners drape, 
The clouds surround the shadows dim. 

Filling the heart with nameless fears, 

Till night's dull darkness disappears. 



116 MISCELLANEOUS. 



THE FOUISTDLma. 

As I sat by my window one cool autumn 
eve. 
And watched the dim shades on the 
opposite lawn, 

From my silent surroundings sweet fan- 
cies I weave, 
Unmindful of time and the approach of 
the dawn. 

There I sat in the quiet and beauty of 
night. 

Till the sentinel stars grew dim with the 
light. 

When recalled to myself from the silence 
around, 
While Mature was sleeping in peaceful 
repose, 
'By the meager approach of a weak, wail- 
ing sound. 
Which on the night air at intervals rose, 



THE FOUNDLING. 



117 



Growing faint and fainter as the even- 
ing chill 
Crept over the landscape so somber and 

still. 

Whence comes that faint cry so plaintive 
and thrilling, 
That dies on the air at each waft of the 
breeze ? 
Why creeps o'er my heart this sensation 
so chilling, 
As I listen enchained 'mid the rustle of 

trees? 

At length all is quiet but the night- 
watch's tread, 

So I hasten beside him, and tell him my 
dread. 

Together we seek in the dimness of dawn, 

'Mid grass and dead leaves becovered 

with dew. 

To unravel the mystery heard on the lawn ; 

And the darkness dispelling, we find 

it too true, 



118 MISCELLANEOUS. 

That a babe, sweet and chubby, but a 

week or two old, 
Is lying neglected alone in the cold. 

In a coarse blanket-shawl, soiled, ragged, 
and old, 
Lay the poor little sleeper, the picture 
of grief. 

Aweary with 'weeping and hunger and 
cold, 
Kind nature had brought it this happy 
relief. 

Its downy cheeks wet with the cold even- 
ing dew. 

Its chubby fists doubled and dimpled and 
blue. 

A moment we gazed on its rude little bed, 
And Avondered what misery it must 
atone, 

Why it was left there — what mystery led 
To expose it to perish, forsaken, alone, 



THE FOUNDLING. 119 

"Was it treachery, wickedness, want, or 

woe, 
That tempted the mother to abandon it so ? 

I lifted the babe from the damp, chilly 

ground, 
Which awakened the sleeper from its 

sobbing repose. 
And casting a startled and wild look 

around, 
It nestled again in an infantile doze. 
While I carried it home to fire and food, 
Dressed it more cleanly, less common and 

rude. 

A sweet little girl, fat, rosy, and fair, 
Byl^ature's endowments all any could 
crave, 
With gentle blue eyes and light downy 
hair 
(On a snowy broad brow), inclining to 
wave : 



120 MISCELLANEOUS. 

In form sweetly perfect, in face near di- 
vine; 

For such do our wealthy ones daily re- 
pine. 

This poor little waif, unweicomed has 

come. 
Been rescued hy chance from hunger 

and cold. 
How early life's trials for it have begun. 
How many new fears may its future 

unfold ! 
Left helpless and homeless to strangers 

alone, 
With not even a name to claim as its own. 

I^ow the watchman returns for his found- 
ling care. 
I resign it reluctantly into his arms, 
The babe is adrift again — whither and 
where ? 
Will it find security from life's alarms ? 



THE NEW YEAR. 121 

It may never know father nor motlier nor 

home, 
Kind heaven protect it from evils to come. 



THE ]^EW YEAR. 

The year is an infant, new-born and pure- 
hearted, 
S^o bhir on its beauty, no tear on its 
cheek ; 
How long will it last, when the cal- 
endar's started. 
In innocent purity ? How soon will 
it reek 
With sorrow and sinfulness, woe and un- 

kindness, 
Till the whole year is blotted with error 
and blindness ? 

Each happy new year brings good reso- 
lutions, 
11 



122 MISCELLANEOUS. 

Which wanei and wear out ere the 
change of the moon ; 
"We picture new plans at each revohi- 
tion, 
Which we find, when to late, have 
failed us too soon, 
And onr visions of happiness, pleasure, 

and cheerfuhiess 
Are changed, ere the end, to sorrow and 
tearfulness. 

Oh, would that this year, unlike all 
preceding. 
Could show a clean record of well- 
kept resolves — 
Good plans well perfected, fair promises 
heeding — 
Instead of a picture that daily dis- 
solves ; 
Then, indeed, would onr future be free 

from all care. 
Were our pledges and vows kept all 
through the year. 



SPRING SPECIALTIES. 123 



SPEma SPECIALTIES. 

Spring smacks of lamb and peas and eggs, 

Of rural trips and pleasure, 
'New jaunty hats, and pants with legs 

A yard around would measure; 
Of light cloth suits for gents to wear, 

And kilted skirts for ladies, 
Who sally out to get the air 

When the house is hot as Hades; 
It tells of times when overcoats 

Are being pawned for summer, 
When furs are in the camphor chest, 

And each officious drummer 
Commences sale of china glue 

And extra patent polish. 
When heads of houses gladly would 

Each canvasser demolish ; 
When brush and broom, and soap and 
sand 

Are order of the season ; 



124 MISCELLANEOUS. 

When cleaning paint and scrubbing floors 
Would rob you of your reason; 

When home looks damp, and smells of 
suds, 
And dust and dirt are plenty ; 

There 's not a happy husband then — 
I'm sure not one in twenty — 

And the only hope they bave to cbeer, 

The season comes but once a year. 



MUSIC. 



Music, blest of all the arts. 

We prize thy melting measures, 

What other power so imparts 

The magic to awaken hearts ? 

We 'd have a line of crowned Mozarts 
To tune our lives to pleasures. 

Music soothes the infant's sigbs, 

And lulls its baby slumbers ; 
Its charms cement domestic ties, 



MUSIC. 125 

Each home its mellow measures prize ; 
It kindred hearts will harmonize 
And chain by tuneful numbers. 

Music cheers the bridal hours, 

Each happiness it heightens ; 
It stirs, it animates, empowers 
The love and hope that may be ours, 
And ripens buds of bliss to flowers, 
And every blessing brightens. 

Music stirs the warrior's fire. 

And goads him on to glory ; 
It kindles every brave desire 
That love of country can inspire, 
And makes the hero's heart beat higher 
To 'dorn a patriot story. 

The church's choicest gift and best ; 

Its harmony and gladness. 
Music's strains, religion's zest. 
The Christian's cheering balm and rest. 



126 MISCELLANEOUS. 

When hope seems dark, and heart de- 
pressed 
It charms away the sadness. 

Last, music of the funeral train. 

So slowly, sweetly sighing ; 
It softens weeping mourners' pain; 
It tells of rapture we '11 regain 
"When heavenly transports we attain, 

And soothes the dread of dying. 



THE FAIR APE OF PHILA. 

We have just read the news, 

Which gave us the blues, 
That a monkey was born in that city ; 

An honor so rare 

We wanted to share, 
So jealousy seasoned our pity. 

To have the fair ape 
Show its infantile shape 



THE FAIR APE OF PHILA. 127 

First out in that public garden, 

So far away from 

Her country and kind, 

Aloof from her comrades 

She never ma^^ find, 

]^or the trees of the tropics. 

For which she has pined. 
Her case is truly a hard one. 

This young kangaroo 

Born out at the Zoo, 
Made a ripple in public feeling. 

Which gushes and glows. 

And clamors and crows, 

Hnjointing at once, 

Each Darwinian nose. 
All love from foreign apes stealing. 

A Quakeress monkey 
Is a curious thing, 
A grave and gay combination ; 
Its infantile antics 
'Tw^ill have to bring 



128 MISCELLANEOUS. 

Into sober sedatenees ; 
And, poor little thing, 
Away all its native 
Amusements must fling 
To claim its Quaker relation. 

We can 't help thinking 

'T would have been for the best, 

Conld this fair young ape 

Been born out West, 
Though the Darwin theory goes to prove 
Its right to the city of "■Brotherly Love J' 



DECORATION ODE. 

Bring fragrant flowers, rich and rare, 
Let wreathes and roses scent the air. 
Go strew them freely o'er the graves 
Of buried heroes, sainted braves. 
The noisy din of war is o'er, 
The battle drum shall wake no more. 



DECORATION ODE. 129 

ISTow quietly their bosoms rest, 
Those silent hearts by valor blest. 
On sacred soil their ashes lie, 
Blest beneath a summer sky; 
Their deeds of glory, brave and bold, 
Their valiant will, their dying told. 
Their honest hearts were in the strife, 
For liberty they gave th eir life. 
May every patriot in our land 
Beside those sainted heroes stand. 
And fill their names with warrior praise, 
And deck their graves with lasting bays. 
May woman's gentle, soothing voice 
!Now sing sweet anthems and rejoice. 
That, as she wreathes the flowers o'er 
The mounds of loved ones, now no more, 
Their names and deeds will ever bloom, 
While flowers fade upon their tomb. 
They 've fought their earthly battles well, 
We 'd crown them all with immortelle. 



130 MISCELLANEOUS. 



THE HONEYMOOK 

With " loves " and " doves " 

And white kid gloves 
The "honeymoon" v^ill wane away; 

Each turn 's a kiss, 

This new-born bliss 
Will last for thirty days, they say. 

With gifts and glances 

And wedding dances, 
The time speeds onward far too fast ; 

Such blushing, sighing, 

There 's no denying 
This novel love 's too sweet to last. 

They love and languish 

In blissful anguish. 
Till all around swims with delight ; 

Their vows and pledges 

Set your teeth on edges, 
And they " bill and coo " till it dims your 
sight. 



THE MODEL MAN. 131 

They seem so spooney 

They 're almost luny, 
This pair so lately joined in one. 

They loll and linger, 

Toy with hand and finger, 
And think life's pleasures just begun. 

Mistaken mortals ! 

Life's opening portals 
Admit a glare too bright too last ; 

And " loves young dream," 

"Which now may seem 
Elysian joy, will soon be past.. 



THE MODEL MAI^. 

I have an ambition to try to portray 

In rhythm a masculine model ; 
So seldom such rarities brighten my way 
To the fields of wild fancy I'm driven 
to stray, 



^>^ 



132 MISCELLANEOUS. 

And to paint ray ideal in a rliymin,^ array 
Will force me tlie muses to coddle. 

Well, this model of mine is married, of 
course, 
For how could a bachelor be one ? 
So I gauge him by marital morals and 

force ; 
As a husband, he merits a crown for a 

cross, 
For he acts as a beau instead of a boss — 
I 'd go to the moon to see one. 

He seldom or never goes out after night, 

As other men do, less devoted. 
To lodges and clubs, and to see every 

sight, 
Whether it be wrong or whether it be 

right ; 
He never comes home either cranky or 
tight — 
A fact which should be duly noted. 



THE MODEL MAN. 133 

He never comes in from the office and 

scowls 
If dinner is late or not ready, 
l^OY frowns nor feazes, nor fusses nor 

howls, 
]!!^or goes round the house and grumbles 

and growls, 
Il^or blesses the knife as he cuts up the 

fowls, 
But always seems happy and steady. 

He 's a model, indeed — content on a crust. 

E"o sighing for honor or riches ; 
He 's as blind as a bat to cob- webs and 

dust ; 
Il^or any domestic derangement or rust 
"Would he notice for worlds, for fear of a 
muss— 
His thoughtfulness truly bewitches. 

A button less shirt, or a hole in his hose, 
He views with happy contentment. 



134 MISCELLANEOUS. 

'Nor savagely scowls if liis best Sunday 

clothes 
Get mussed in the closet ; nor blusters 

nor blows, 
ISTor curses the rocker for stumping his 

toes ; 
My model is free from resentment. 

He never keeps letters for days in his hat 

That I give him to mail in the morning, 

But mails them at once, so punctual and 

pat. 
Whether it's from duty or fear of a spat, 
I 'm prepared not to say ; I only know 
that 
He mails them without further warning. 

He never complains of long dry goods 
bills, 
Nor squirms when the shoe bill 's pre- 
sented ; 

]^or scolds nor scowls when the milliner 
fills 



THE MODEL MAN. 135 

A long sheet of foolscap with bonnets 
and frills, 

Bnt pays like a m,an, if it breaks him or 
kills, 
With an air that's resigned and con- 
tented. 

And then too, he 's ever so ready to go, 
At the sound of the slightest sugges- 
tion. 
To the opera, theater, lecture, or show ; 
Consenting at once, he never says no, 
Nor looks bored and cross if it 's stupid or 
slow. 
But retains the same happy expression. 

He does not complain, in our travels, of 

trunks, 
Or baskets, or bundles, or boxes. 
But smilingly looks at the over-stored 

bunks 
In happy complacence — never worries or 

spunks; 



136 MISCELLANEOUS. 

This model of mine 's no cross, surly 
lunks, 
But a martyr quite equal to Fox's. 

My ideal man do n't growl for a week, 

Should I get a few duds for my travels, 
But gives money and time, to sew and to 

seek 
'New dresses and wraps, too many to 

speak, 
And seems to enjoy each extravagant 
freak 
That the mystery of toilet unravels. 

Some men will forget in their every- day 
lives 
The courtesies due to their spouses ; 
They get kind of used to their homes 

and their wives, 
ISTeglecting the walks, the chats, and the 

drives. 
Upon which connubial happiness thrives ; 
But devotion in mine never drowses. 



THE STRICKEN SOUTH. 137 

N'ow, gents, stop your blushing; I did 

not intend 
To step on the toes of a single male friend. 
Your modesty might personalities dread, 
So I will say that this model depicted — is 

dead. 



THE STRICKEN SOUTH. 

[Summer of 1878.] 

The pestilence that gaunt and grim 

Stalks through our sunny land. 
Leaves traces marked with misery 

In many a broken band ; 
It scatters friends and severs ties, 

And makes whole cities wail, 
I^eglected dead unburied lies 

To tell the mournful tale. 

One fickle moon has scarcely passed 
Since first that blighting blow 

Crushed hopes of years — all aims of life 
Seemed paralyzed with woe ; 



138 MISCELLANEOUS. 

Bereavement, blight, and bitterness 
Eeigii o'er our stricken land, 

And leave the lone and desolate 
Beside their dead to stand. 

Their sunny skies in beauty smile 

O'er scores of scenes of woe, 
And seem to mock the misery 

The fatal records show ; 
Dread burdens every waft of breeze 

Which pestilence imparts ; 
The very balmy air they breathe 

Brings poison to their hearts. 

Their streets deserted, kindred fled, 

All busy life is still ; 
Their household gods all scattered lie 

Before death's dauntless will; 
A grave-like silence reigns supreme, 

E'o sound but moans and sighs 
That echoes on the quiet air 

As some new victim dies. 

Fond lips that prayed but yesterday 
Around the social hearth. 



IP EVER' I CEASE TO LOVE. 139 

Are closed in death's oblivion 
And mute to sounds of earth ; 

Babes and mothers rest as one 
Beneath the silent sod, 

Together summoned sire and son 
Before the bar of God. 

For bleeding hearts and stricken homes 

We plead thy pitying care, 
And beg for mercy at thy will, 

Oh, God! hear thou our prayer; 
Relent, and stay the messenger 

That lurks at every door ; 
Ketard his ruthless rava2:e3 

And health and hope restore. 



^' IF EYER I CEASE TO LOYE.^ 

Then let the sun w^ith rosy light 
'No longer shine, nor moon by night 
Her mellow rays around, above. 
Illume — if I should cease to love. 



140 MISCELLANEOUS. 

May starry heiglits grow dim and dark, 
In absense of that heavenly spark, 
All ligature's gems in skies above 
Suspend — if I should cease to love. 

May dancing rills and crystal brooks 
E-ejoice no more mid shady nooks, 
IsTor wind in glee through moonlit grove 
Or glen — if I should cease to love. 

"Without this magic spark divine 
To warm and cheer this heart of mine, 
l^OT earth beneath nor heaven above. 
Could compensate for loss of love. 

The moon and stars, the sun and air, 
The joyous birds and flowers rare, 
All to me would worthless prove, 
If ever I should cease to love. 

This lovely land, these sunny skies, 
'No charm would have for loveless eyes, 
No song from hall or sight from grove 
Enchant — if I should cease to love. 



APPEAL FOR MEMPHIS OPtPHANS. 141 



AN APPEAL FOE THE MEMPHIS 
ORPHANS. 

iRecitedat the St. PauVs Children's Social by Joe. E. Young, 1878.] 

We are baxDpj to meet yoo, 
In gladness we greet you, 

A welcome to all we extend ; 
Your happy, bright faces 
Show nothing hut traces 

Which kindness and charity lend. 

While we revel in pleasure, 
Let 's try in a measure 

To remember our brothers abroad, 
Who are suffering and sighing. 
And in misery crying, 

For comforts they can not afford. 

One short, fatal season 
Has given them reason 

For deploring their sorrows for years ; 
Taken father and mother. 



142 MISCELLANEOUS. 

And sister and brother, 

And left them alone in their tears. 

With no one to love them 
Bat the Father above them, 

IsTo home but the one in the skies ; 
"No hope for the morrow 
To soften their sorrow, 

'No mother to quiet their cries. 

To the cold care of strangers. 
And the world's many dangers. 

Their lot in the future is cast: 
They will miss everj^ hour 
The sweet, soothing power 

Of the love that now lives in the past. 

So, comrades, we pray you, 
Let no motive stay you 

From helping the orphans in need; 
Their friends are all taken, 
Their homes all forsaken, 

Their childhood's a desert indeed. 



WAITING FOR FROST. 143 



WAITmG FOE FEOST. 

In tlie silence of night, 

In the dullness of day, 
"When disease and distress 

Hold pre-eminent sway ; 
The sad, stricken souls 

In their misery tossed, 
E'ow yearningly sigh 

For the coming of frost. 

The friends and afflicted 

"Watch evening and morn, 
For a waft of cool breeze, 

That a hope may be borne 
To the souls of the sighing, 

Whose life it may cost, 
This continued and fatal 

Delay of the frost. 

Their hopes still deferred 
Each day brings regret, 
While the suffering die, 



144 MISCELLANEOUS. 

And the end is not yet. 
Foud wish of the weary, 

Chilled, blighted, and crossed, 
Each day disappointed, 

In the coming of frost. 

By the bed of the dying, 

By the side of the bier, 
The bereaved ones sit sighing 

In sorrow and fear ; 
And others, deserted, 

In agony tossed 
On their feverish couch 

Are praying for frost. 

Oh, who can half measure 

The sorrow and gloom 
That enshrouds our fair land 

Like a dark, dreary tomb. 
May God in his mercy. 

Ere hope is all lost, 
Relentingly hasten 

The coming of frost. 

Memphis, Oct. 1878. 



OCTOBER. 145 



OCTOBER. 

October winds are softly sigliing" 

Through the stately oaks and pines, 
Autumn leaves are wildly flying 

As all nature now declines; 
Brightly through the varied branches 

Breaks the slantino^ autumn sun. 
And chirping through the thinning bushes 

See the swallows homeward come. 

As I watch decaying nature 

That surrounds our rural home, 
Revel in these autumn glories, 

Listen to the soft wind's moan. 
See the leaves from green to golden 

Change their summer hue and fall, 
The flowers fade, the branches wither, 

It seems the •' common lot of all." 



In life we find a fleeting springtime. 

Kite with fancy's wildest dream, 
13 " 



146 MISCELLANEOUS. 

But giving early place to summer, 
Whicli with ripened beauties teem ; 

Then comes autumn, sober autumn, 
Roses scattered, hopes decayed, 

When spring dreams and summer beauty 
With life's flowery fancies fade. 

But the pensive, sad reflections, 

Musing on those autumn days, 
Imparts to us a saddened pleasure, 

Surrounds our life with gentle haze; 
Takes us through the faded flowers, 

Crushed and scattered 'neath our tread; 
Leads us through forsaken bowers, 

Shows us nature withered — dead. 

" OAK.LAWN," Memphis, Tenn. 



GEO. FEAlSrCIS TRAm, 

THE WILD WIT OF THE DAT. 

Variable, versatile, stormy, and wild. 
At times we 're entranced, and then again 
riled 



THE WILD WIT OF THE DAY. 147 

At his wayward remarks and blustering 

strain, 
Peculiar alone to Geo. Francis Train. 

• Original ever his words and his ways, 
But orthodox seldom in aught that he 

says ; 
His fancy, so fertile, takes many a flight, 
But leaves Truth and Religion quite out 

of sight. 

Ambitious, progressive, political scion, 
Reminding us oft of a wild, roaring lion. 
Uncaged and untamed in a woody domain, 
A manner peculiar to G-eo. Francis Train. 

His lectures all seem so wild and erratic. 
His manner, at times, so raving, dramatic, 
In a whirlwind of passion he prances and 

strides. 
Then subdues — and his rage into poetry 

glides. 



148 MISCELLANEOUS. 

A perfect enigma, and a genius as well, 
A tornado, a storm, and then comt s a 

spell 
Of brightness and sunshine, 'mid thunder 

and rain, 
Peculiar alone to Geo. Francis Train. 

Ambitious of honors, position and fame. 
Determined to win a notorious uame, 
His wisb, 3'OU will see. in every oration. 
Is deathless desire to govern the nation ! 

To help on his cause, he solicits the aid 
Of all colors and sexes and sorts ever 

made ; 
Generous indeed — he's the workingman's 

friend ! 
To hear him — he has only a dollar to 

spend ! 

Glorious republic! If the prophecy's 
true. 

When Train is elected — we'll have noth- 
ing to do 



Washington's birthday. 149 

But enjoy perfect peace abroad and at 

home, 
The nation will think the millennium's 

come ! 



WASHmGTON'S BIRTHDAY. 

As years roll on and ages pass, 

This name of martial glory 
Leaves traces on the calendar, 
Which tell the yearly story 
Of this our '' prince of patriots'" birth, 
The bravest, boldest, best of earth, 
Whose mighty will and warrior worth 
Won battles great and gory. 

It tells of valor long since gone, 

Of victories commended. 
Of wonders seen and wonders told. 
Of buried braves and heroes bold. 
Cast in nature's choicest mold, 

Kow on earth's bosom blended. 



150 MISCELLANEOUS. 

We sigh in sadness o'er the wreck 

Of this historic season, 
We'd have its pleasures all return, 
We 'd have its patriot bosoms burn. 
We 'd have our nation ever spurn 

The slightest trace of treason. 

We'd wander through memorial halls 
In quest of antique treasures. 

We 'd linger round those storied walls. 
Renewing bygone pleasures. 

And wishing for that olden time. 

When our dead hero, in his prime, 
Contested unjust measures. 

We 'd hear of battles lost and won. 
Of dangers braved and ended. 

We 'd hear of patriots, long since gone. 
Whom nature most intended 

To live in fame and memory 

Throughout a long eternity. 



Washington's birthday. 151 

We'd have our sainted warrior's name. 



So famed in song and story, 
And rendered to our memories dear 

By records of its glory, 
Kept green on history's sacred pages, 
From now throughout the lapse of ages. 



152 PREFACE. 



ADIEU TO "Mr DEAR FIVE HUIST- 
. DRED." 

We seldom see a preface in the back of 
a book, or a frontispiece in tbe middle, 
but as I have always been considered a 
little eccentric, I will make a new depar- 
ture, and thank ray indulgent readers 
here for their patient perusal of these 
pages. I locate these honeyed words in 
the rear as a reward of merit to any one 
that is martyr enough to reach them by 
the regular route, and those that have not 
energy and endurance enough to do so 
deserve to lose these chunks of wisdom 
and words of cheer. In the preceding 
poems are depicted sentiments to suit my 
changing moods ; streaks of mirth and 
wails of misery; childhood's mischief and 
woman's woe ; a mixture of ecstasy and 
agony, to suit " the gay or the grave, the 



PREFACE. 153 

lively or severe." !N"ow, should they fail 
to find a responsive echo in my readers' 
hearts, then is " Othello's occupation 
gone," and I will fold ray hands, dry my 
quill, dismiss ray muse, and write no 
more. 



